Einstein

The ice has been gone from the neighbor’s pond for several days. Our pair of geese have been wandering together near the driveway and out in Zen’s field.  There are bluebirds at the nesting boxes, and a crowd of tree swallows have been diving back and forth over those same boxes quite aggressively.  I’m rooting for the bluebirds.  Robins on the lawn, and a spectacular crowd of redwing blackbirds. It has been cold again for the last couple of days, but before that we had some warmer weather.  I let Charlie out for his morning pee on Friday, and the weather was so mild I followed him out in my robe and slippers.  Standing on the little back porch, breathing in 40 degree air, I realized how different the place will be as the seasons change.  The air was full of birdsong, and it smelled like things were growing.

Dan and Mary saw a fox hunting mice.  She probably has a den of hungry kits to feed. The crows have been collecting nesting material and flying off with it. There is still snow in some of the shaded places and where the drifts had been especially thick. But on our hill and along the drive to Cooperstown winter is receding and spring is moving in.  The deer have come out of the shelter of the pines and graze in Zen’s field. They look up when they hear me moving in the house, but most of the time they go back to browsing, just a little more alert.  Crocuses and daffodils are coming up.  The trees are pink, getting ready to leaf.  Soon, when I look at the tree line on the hill to the east I won’t be able to see the morning sky between the bare branches.  And to the west at sunset the treetops will be soft with leaves against the sky, not angular and stiff.

I remember these days from childhood, seeing the first crocuses and snowdrops surrounded by the last of the snow in the gardens I walked past on Palmer Avenue on my way to school. I remember spring coming all at once, dramatically.  But it’s a trick of memory, and not how it works.  Spring comes more like a tide, racing in and receding.  But with each turning of the weather and the lengthening days it ebbs a little less each time and returns each time with more growth, more life.  Winter gives way because it has to, but not all at once.  We may have more snow this week, and we’re not predicted to see 40s again for a while.

The pace of my life is so much slower here, following the days and seasons.  It’s not the pace of merging onto 101 in heavy traffic.  It’s waiting for a few cars to go by on 28 to give us a break so we can make our left turn towards Cooperstown. I don’t have any more time than I’ve ever had; still 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour. But Einstein was onto something important. In Palo Alto, surrounded by people in a hurry, I felt like I was always in a hurry too.  Here, while we eat the lunch Silvio has made for us, he has a few minutes to sit with us  and talk about expanding his Hartwick Restaurant. Here, Adele has time when we buy our rye bread in the Schneider Bakery to tell us that she’s in love. Here, where Christine almost always takes a few minutes to joke with Jay as she checks us in at the gym, here, time seems to pass more slowly. Jay says there are fewer distractions.  And he’s right.  Nothing interferes with watching the geese waddle up the road.

P.S. I was going to include some spring photos, but I waited too long.  Snow most of the day today, covering the signs of spring.  But it will be back.